


A Million Eyes You Are The Brightest Blue

by araliya



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 10:55:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13234203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/araliya/pseuds/araliya
Summary: A very drunk Darren breaks into Chris' apartment by mistake on New Year's Eve.





	A Million Eyes You Are The Brightest Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on this prompt:
> 
> “You broke into my apartment drunk thinking it was your friend’s house and I should call the cops but my cat kinda likes you so we’re good” AU
> 
> *Title from This Is The New Year by A Great Big World b/c I'm basic af.

This is the third New Year’s Eve Chris has spent alone. He’s actually gotten so used to it that he no longer feels that sorry for himself. Living in downtown LA should’ve meant that he’d have made at least _some_ friends, but clearly that hasn’t happened yet. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s a struggling college student slash writer who holes himself up in his too-small apartment, and gets his groceries delivered to his doorstep.

 

Maybe. Probably.

 

Chris has already set himself up for the night- several cans of diet coke are set out on the coffee table, along with some boxes of Thai takeout and all three Lord of the Rings movies lined up on Netflix. He’s about to settle himself on the couch, from where he probably won’t move for at least four or five hours, when there is an almighty crash in the hallway.

 

Chris’ heart almost stops, and in a flash of panic, he grabs the television remote, wielding it like like a weapon. He sits as still as he can, keeping his ears out for any more noises. This is it. This is totally the night he dies. He can almost imagine the headlines- _Innocent Man Brutally Murdered By Thugs On New Year’s Eve: A Tragic Ending To The Year-_

 

An excited yelp and a hiccup startle Chris out of thoughts of his imminent obituary, and he frowns in disbelief when he hears someone cooing animatedly, as if to a baby.

 

“Oh my god, you’re _adorable_ \- Jules _totally_ didn’t say she had a _cat-_ who _are_ you, my lovely-”

 

Whoever it is, sounds either raving mad or incredibly drunk, and seems to have found Brian. Oh god. Brian. Brian, who must now be in the hands of a cold-blooded killer. Brian, who could just as well be about to join Chris in his fast-approaching grave.

 

Scrambling to the kitchen, he fumbles for a knife from the drawer, and picks up his phone, fingers already on the number 9. Pointing the knife away from him, he tiptoes over to the opening to the hallway.

 

Heart thudding in his throat, breathing shallow and fast, Chris is totally prepared to use the knife against a ferocious attack, but what greets him is not a psychotic serial killer who gets distracted with house pets before a murder. Instead, it’s a completely harmless looking man, sitting cross-legged on the ground, with a purring Brian in his lap.

 

Chris drops the knife.

 

It makes a clattering noise against the wood, and the burglar slash murderer slash cat whisperer looks up at him. Chris is immediately greeted with a blindingly enthusiastic smile.

 

“Heyy, man! You a friend of Jules?” he slurs, Brian falling out of his lap with a disgruntled yelp when he makes a move to get up and greet Chris.

 

Chris immediately backs away, brandishing his phone as a warning. “I am going to call the cops _right now_ , if you don’t get out of this apartment.”

 

The man’s face falls almost comically, and for some reason Chris feels _bad_. The guy looks genuinely heartbroken.

 

“Wait, _why_? I _know_ Jules, she’s like one of my _best friends_!”

 

Chris would probably feel like he was talking to a toddler were this guy not _clearly_ a grown man in at least his early 20s, and also a very hot grown man at that. Which is totally an inappropriate thought to think about a _felon_ , since breaking and entering is a _felony_ in California, but Chris really can’t help himself.

 

He shakes himself out of rather un-PG thoughts of those dark curls and stubble, and brings his mind back to what the guy just said. “Who is Jules? Why would you think Jules lives here?”

 

The man’s (weirdly shaped yet insanely attractive) eyebrows furrow in confusion. “This isn’t Jules’ house?”

 

Chris groans exasperatedly. “No, this isn’t _Jules’_ house. Clearly, in your inebriated state, you’ve come to the wrong apartment. _Broken and entered_ , actually.”

 

The man leans heavily against the wall. “I didn’t break _anything_. The door was open.”

 

Oh. Shit. Chris must’ve left the door open when he got his food from the delivery boy. Maybe not a felon, then.

 

“I’m Darren.”

 

He’s introducing himself, why is he introducing himself? Chris just wants to get back to his warm blankets and thai food, not make friends with a drunk stranger, no matter how hot he is.

 

“You also need to leave.” Chris means it in a firm way, but it just ends up sounding mean. Darren pouts and Chris winces. He looks like a puppy left out in the rain.

 

“Why?” Darren whines, and then his eyes flicker with recognition. “Oooh- are you _with_ someone? Am I _interrupting_ something?”

 

Chris flushes. “ _No_ , I’m not _with_ _anyone_ right now-”  


“Wait, you’re alone? On New Year’s Eve?”

 

Chris stomps towards Darren, ignoring the fact that he could very well be walking straight to his death (what if he was just a really good actor?), and holds the door open wide. “Yes, I’m alone. And that’s not actually a bad thing. Maybe I _want_ to be alone!”

 

Chris tries to make it sound confident and assured, but it ends up sounding painfully defensive.

 

Darren pouts again, and Chris almost melts. “Don’t you want company? I could be your company!”

 

Chris raises his eyebrows. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Jules or someone?”

 

Darren waves his hand airily, thereby removing his anchoring on the wall, leading him to stumble precariously. Chris grabs his waist on instinct, ignoring how well it fits under his arm.

 

“Nah, I won’t miss much. Everyone’ll be smashed anyway.”

 

“Like you are?”

 

“I could sober up!”

 

Darren sounds almost _hopeful_ , and Chris wonders why on earth he would be. In his ninja turtles t-shirt and shapeless pajama bottoms, Chris doesn’t really look like the most interesting person on the planet.

 

“I should be calling the cops.”

 

Darren waggles his eyebrows. “But you haven’t, even when you could have.” His grin is like the cheshire cat’s.

 

Chris can already feel himself caving. “Won’t your friends miss you?”  


“Nah, they saw me yesterday. They’ll live.”

 

“You’re still drunk. I don’t want to have to babysit you.”

 

“Then catch up. We’ll both be drunk, and then you won’t have to babysit anyone.”

 

Chris narrows his eyes and lets go of Darren’s waist, wincing when he falls against the wall with a thud. “Why are you doing this?”

 

Darren looks confused. “Why am I doing what?”

 

“Why are you offering to hang out with me when you don’t even know me?”

 

“That’s how you get to know people. By hanging out?” Darren says it like he’s telling Chris that water is wet.

 

“But why _me_?”

 

“Well, I feel like you’d be more interesting than my drunk friends that I see like, _every_ day, and plus you’re like, _beautiful_ in a surreal, elfin way.”

 

He’s drunk, Chris tries to assure himself. He’s drunk and he probably didn’t mean that.

 

“How are you still able to use words like that?” he asks instead.  

 

Darren shrugs, and leans his arm against the door so that it falls shut with a soft _click_ . “I’m not _that_ drunk.” As soon as he says it, his arm gives way, and he’s falling to the floor in a heap.

 

Chris rolls his eyes. “Clearly, I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

 

He tries to ignore the swooping sensation in his stomach when Darren whoops with glee.

 

***

 

“That is a _lie_.”

 

Darren’s sprawled over his couch, legs tangled with Chris’, while Chris watches from the other end. It’s probably weird, because they’ve literally only just met, but Chris is ready to start doing weird things. He’s also partway drunk, so it helps.

 

“There is _no_ way you haven’t ever had a boyfriend.”

 

Chris raises his eyebrow and downs the rest of his glass of rum and diet coke. “Not a lie. No one wants to date me, and even if they did, I wouldn’t know. I barely ever go out.”

 

“But you’re like-” Darren gestures wildly. “ _Gorgeous_.”

 

A pink blush joins the alcohol-induced redness on Chris’ face. There cannot be any way he looks gorgeous right now.

 

Darren however, is on a tirade. “You’re also super fucking smart- you _write_ for fuck’s sake, and you’re _funny_ , and _kind_ , and you let me into your house without even knowing who I was.”

 

“I’m also stupid, then.”

 

Darren’s gasps indignantly. “That was like the best decision _ever_! I am _so_ glad you actually let me stay! I’ve never spent a New Year’s with someone like you.”

 

Chris suddenly feels sick. He sets down his empty glass, and curls up under the blankets. “I think I’ve drunk enough for one night.”

 

Darren seems to notice the change in the atmosphere. “Okay, then. I think you’re sufficiently caught up anyway.”

 

Chris suddenly feels bad, and decides to ask about Darren’s family. Darren’s eyes light up and it’s enough to ward away images of Darren with other people on New Year’s Eves, doing things that make Chris heart ache to think of.

 

***

 

“Do you have sparklers?”

 

Darren’s looking through Chris’ cupboards, and Chris is hoping that there’s a sufficient amount of healthy food in there so that he won’t be judged.

 

“Why do you want sparklers?”

 

“It’s New Year’s!”

 

“And?”  


Darren stares at Chris like he’s sprouted two heads. “You light sparklers during New Years.”

 

“I _know_ that, Darren.”

 

“Don’t you want to?”

 

Oh, and it’s back. The lost puppy face.

 

“Is it safe to light them inside?”

 

“We’ll go out on the balcony! Please?” Darren looks so excited that Chris finds himself caving, once again.

 

“I might have some left over from Hannah’s birthday party.”

 

Darren squeals like a little girl, and Chris tries not to think about how he’s already told him all about Hannah, and their relationship. He also tries to ignore the fact that no one he knows in LA has ever been close enough to him for him to even mention his sister.

 

Chris retrieves the sparklers, and suddenly Darren’s grabbing his hand, leading him out to the open balcony. The air is cooler that he expects, and sends a pleasant shiver up his spine.

 

“Seven minutes to midnight,” Darren whispers, and Chris startles.

 

Oh yeah. This is happening. He’s on a balcony with a gorgeous stranger (not a stranger anymore, Chris reminds himself), and they’re about to count down to the New Year. Said stranger also swings both ways, a useful tidbit of information Chris garnered when he told Darren he was gay, fully ready to kick him out if he even got the slightest whiff of homophobia.

 

They’ve got the sparklers and matches at the ready.

 

The mood is suddenly serious, standing out here in the open, wind whistling in their ears. There’s a distant pulse of music from one of the other apartments.

 

“Are you wishing for anything?” Chris asks quietly.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Don’t tell me, or it won’t come true.”

 

Darren’s eyes glow amber in the moonlight. “Can I tell you if it does come true?”

 

“Are you that confident?”

 

Darren holds his gaze, lifting up Chris’ unlit sparkler to light it with a match. It fizzles to life immediately, bright and brilliant between them.

 

“More like hopeful,” he replies, using Chris’ sparkler to light his own. They’re one of the long ones that go on for several minutes instead of several seconds. They take turns drawing patterns in the sky, until Darren’s phone pings to let them know it’s almost midnight.

 

“I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss,” Chris whispers into the darkness. He doesn’t know why he says it.

 

“Neither have I.”

 

Chris turns to look at Darren in surprise. “That’s impossible.”

 

“Really. I always clear out as soon as they start the countdown.”

 

“Why?”

 

Their sparklers glitter closer to the ends of the sticks, and Darren gently takes Chris’ hand in his own to hold them away from their bodies.

 

“I guess I’ve never really wanted to have a New Year’s kiss that’s meaningless. They say the person who you kiss at New Years is the person you’ll spend the rest of the year with.”

 

“And you’ve never met someone you’d want to stay a year with?”

 

“I have.”

 

“And?”

 

They’ve somehow moved closer together, so that they’re sparklers are touching and there’s barely a hair’s breadth between their bodies.

 

“And I really don’t think a year’s enough.”

 

Fireworks explode out from behind them. Chris recognises them as the ones that are lit at Grand Park, in downtown LA.

 

“We missed the countdown-” Chris starts, and suddenly Darren’s kissing him, one hand cupping his jaw, and the other twined with Chris’ where their sparklers share a flame.

 

Darren’s kissing him, and it feels like the world just stopped turning.

 

Darren’s kissing him and all he knows is how soft his lips are and the feel of his hair under his fingers and the smell of sparkler smoke.

 

Darren’s kissing him, and Chris really just _needs_ to know. He pulls away to rest his forehead on Darren’s, gasping slightly. His lips still tingle from the memory of Darren’s touch.

 

“Who was that someone you said that a year wouldn’t be enough with?”

 

Darren’s lashes brush Chris’ cheeks as he steals another kiss.

 

“You.”

 


End file.
